Stars
by Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: Destiel AU. Based on the King Arthur legend, hope I've done okay! Rated M for language and probable smut, let me know what you think. You can totally look at my other stuff too. If you want. Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is my Destiel King Arthur AU fic. I keep getting new ideas and wanting to write them, I am by no means abandoning my other fics but I'm just kinda sporadic with what I update, so please be patient with me. I hope you like!**

* * *

Chapter One

It all began with the stars.

In particular, one star.

It blazed a path across the sky, illuminating the land for miles around before landing in an explosion of light and fire.

If anyone had been watching the smoking crater, they would have seen, past the stuttering fires and shards of steaming rock, a man - a boy, really - stand up and look around. They would have also seen him, naked, lean and pale, brush the almost black hair out of his startlingly blue eyes, look around at where he was, and mutter, "Shit. Out by twelve miles and….fuck, a good 16 years".

He disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a castle of stone, King Jonathan looked at his advisors in exasperation.

"Sire, what could it mean?"

"Is it a portent?"

"A sign of terrible evil!"

"Could it have anything to do with the Queen and her barrenness, sire?"

That was it. He sighed through his nose, and stood up.

"I don't know!" He yelled, and they shut up. "If I did, do you really think I would be enduring your pointless fretting?!"

Unable to cope with the Council, he stalked out of the Hall, to where Queen Marianne was waiting for him. Once they had entered the bedchamber, he finally relaxed, allowing his wife to hold him.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I just…..what do I do? A shooting star, that's a sign of something, isn't it?"

Marianne smiled at him.

"Of course, John, but I'm sure it's a good one"

As soon as she finished speaking, there was a rap on the door before the Chief Astronomer, Robert Singer, barged in. The only reason he was allowed to do so was because a) he had no sense of decorum, and b) he and John had grown up together. Currently his bearded face was flushed with excitement, and he waved a piece of yellowed parchment excitedly.

"John! It's the star! It's the prophecy!"

"What in the name of all that is holy are you banging on about, Bobby?"

Bobby took a deep breath and began to read from the paper.

" 'A star shall fall in the Western Land; he shall bring a new age and hope; a Queen shall birth a son, and he shall be one with the star; and after four summers have passed, a new son shall be born, and he too shall have a great destiny. But..' and after that is gets kinda scratchy, but the general gist is that your first son is gonna be in danger, and your second son is gonna powerful as shit and if evil gets a hand on him, your older son is screwed"

There was a silence.

"Are you screwing with me, old man?" John finally asked.

"No, ya idjit, I'm telling you something that was written about a thousand years ago! You need to protect that boy, and find that damn star!"

* * *

_Ten months later_

The Queen let out a sob as she handed her newborn son, Dean, over to Karen Singer.

"Please, just….let him be happy," she whispered. Karen gave her a soft smile.

"Of course I will, love"

* * *

_Four years later_

"Dean?" Karen called from the kitchen of the country home they'd moved to.

"Yes, Mother?" Dean was outside, playing catch with his older brother, Adam.

"We need to tell you something, sweetie. Please come inside."

Dean did as he was bid, sitting in front of Bobby and Karen.

"Dean…you aren't our son."

Dean, at four years old, felt his world fall apart.

"And your parents gave you to us to look after and keep safe. But now, they've given us another son to help protect. This is your brother, Samuel." A bundle wrapped in blankets was proferred.

The four year old boy, who barely understood the world around him, peered at the small, sleeping face.

"Hey, Sammy," he whispered. "I'm Dean. I'm your big brother, and this is Karen, Bobby and Adam, but….you and me, we're all each other's got now."

* * *

**AN: I really love the whole King Arthur story and there's this whole set of novels - the Avalon series - by Marion Zimmer Bradley that everyone should read because they're a feminist take on the King Arthur thing. But yeah, let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here's another chapter! Longer and hopefully better written. Reviews are nice to get btw.**

* * *

Chapter Two

The year of Dean's birth, the King sent his soldiers to search the country, hunting for the fallen star. The star had brought good news – the Queen, whom everyone had thought barren, was due to give birth to a prince! However, it had also heralded the dawn of a new age, and King Jonathan was terrified for both his people and his family. Not once in recorded history had a star fallen to earth, and no one knew the exact nature of what a star was made of – was it composed of rock? Fire?

Four months into the search, one patrol found the crater. The site was isolated and forgotten. Small wonder that it had taken so long to find. The flames had long since been blown out, and the ground was blackened, with patches of rock that looked almost oily and bottomless. The trees and vegetation around were completely flattened, and the sides that were facing upwards – that had been directly exposed to the landing – were scorched black, all the bark and leaves burnt.

There was no sign of a fallen star.

* * *

Not far from where Dean and Sam were growing up under the watchful eyes of 'Uncle Bobby and Aunt Karen', there was a village. Next to the village, there was a thick, dense forest. None of the villagers liked to enter the forest – it was said to be haunted, enchanted, and the only men to brave the depths of the woods were the Hunters. The Hunters were men who weren't a group, or who had an official role within the Kingdom. They were the ones who hunted the creatures, the nightmares that plagued the people of Albion and never asked for anything in return. It was the Hunters who were the only ones brave enough to go into this particular forest, and hunt what lay within.

Oh, and one other.

The villagers sometimes spoke of him, the strange man – boy, beast, creature? – who lived in the forest. His home was never found, and his exact age was unknown, but the villagers sometimes saw him – he would appear, running between the trees effortlessly, or disappearing in a flash of light. As time passed, stories of him grew. They said he lived in a hidden castle, with seven thousand windows, that fairies brought him his food, that he was studying the very depths of magic. They said his blue eyes could see right through your soul, and that he would seduce innocent young women before slitting their throats.

All of this was complete bullshit, obviously.

He only seduced _men._

* * *

Dean was ten years old when he realised he wasn't quite like other boys.

It wasn't that he didn't like Jo, the brewer's daughter.

He'd just rather marry Benny, the man who lived on the outskirts of town.

He wasn't even sure he liked Benny in that way – the man was 24, after all, and slightly scary – he just knew he preferred, well.

Boys.

He struggled with this new information for several days by himself, unsure of what to do. Was it wrong? Was it bad? Eventually, Karen and Bobby realised something was wrong, and sat down their adopted son.

"What is it, Dean? You've been acting odd for days. We're worried about you," Karen said gently.

Dean squirmed.

"Would you still love me, even if I was different?" His voice came out in a whisper. Karen and Bobby looked at each other.

"Of course, sweetie. What's bugging you?"

"I don't….I don't like girls. I like boys." And Dean's bottom lip trembled, and he looked at the floor. Karen threw her arms around him.

"That's okay, Dean. You're allowed to like whoever you want, it makes absolutely no difference to us, or anyone else!"

Dean, so overjoyed that his surrogate parents didn't hate him, so wrapped up in hugging Karen back, completely missed the worried look Karen and Bobby shared over the top of his head.

* * *

It was slightly awkward with Jo, however. She was the same age as Sam, and had always made Dean perfectly aware that, were she older, she would marry him with no hesitation. It was when Dean was 14 that he decided to finally set things straight.

Well, not exactly straight considering the circumstances.

"Jo, Sammy, I wanna tell you something. This is kinda big and I don't want you guys to hate me"

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, eyes wide as he looked at his big brother. He'd been following Dean around his entire life, looking up to the older boy with something akin to hero worship. Sam couldn't imagine ever hating Dean, and it was with a certain amount of worry that he waited for Dean to answer.

Dean raised his head, averting his gaze from the two and staring at a patch of wood on the interior wall of the barn, where a patch of mould was forming.

"I, umm….I like men. Not women. Like, in that way."

There was a pause as the two younger children processed this new information. Sam was first to speak, while Jo looked like she might hit something.

"Why would we hate you? You're Dean"

Dean thought he might cry.

"Thanks, Sammy"

Jo spoke.

"Well, I guess our wedding plans are off," she said in a joking tone, but Dean could see that the girl was close to tears.

"Hey, Jo?" He said gently. She looked up.

"If I was ever gonna marry a girl, it would be you," he told her. She grinned.

"Yeah, but I bet you'd rather marry Nick," she teased. Dean flushed red, and just like that, everything was okay.

"Would not!"

"Would too!"

The three of them ran out the barn, laughing.

* * *

That had been on one of Dean's days off. The rest of the time, Uncle Bobby was training him. Robert Singer, after agreeing to take Dean and Sam in, had returned to his life of being a Hunter. He trained Dean to be a Hunter as well, with Adam moving away to be a Knight. Dean grew up tall, strong and muscular, well learned in the art of combat and stealth, as well as knowing all about signs, the magic of symbols, and how to research and identify different beings. Dean loved Hunting.

One thing he hated, though, was the fact that Bobby and Karen insisted on teaching him the entire history of Albion, as well as the current political state, and the names of every single different duke and clan king.

"But Sammy gets to go hang with Nick and Jo, why can't I?" he wailed.

"Because you're older."

And that was that.

The next year, when Dean was 15, the King died. He simply fell asleep and never woke up. Queen Marianne was long dead, having died of a long illness after giving her second child away into foster care. Dean wondered where the King's children were. He wondered if they were okay.

Bobby and Karen seemed to take the news personally, with Karen sobbing and Bobby wrapped up in his own grief for several days. The kingdom, meanwhile, erupted into chaos. The sons of the dead monarch were nowhere to be found, and they weren't even of age yet! The Council was in a meeting for days, taking breaks only to eat and sleep. Lower Kings, who had ruled their own portions of land under the authority of the deceased High King, travelled to the castle of Caerlon, demanding that they be the one to take the crown.

Eventually, the Council decided. The Lower Kings would continue as they had before, and until the Princes were found, the Council would act as a higher authority in their stead.

The peace was uneasy, but it worked.

And far away from Caerlon, in a home deep in a haunted forest, the man with the sky in his eyes smiled.

* * *

**AN: Also, 'Albion' is an old name for England. And I'm not gonna use the Merlin TV show as an inspiration because I love it and I'm not doing a crossover and Merthur is a whole other OTP. Thanks for reading (if anyone is)!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This is shorter than before, but I've been a bit sick and I've put up a bunch of random drabbles and stuff. I do that when I'm taking a break from working on shit I've started because I'm that much of a procrastinator. So I do still write, even if it isn't this! I'm also doing this final edit on my phone so I'll give it another look over tomorrow when I can to check for mistakes.**

**Stuff is finally starting to happen!**

* * *

Chapter 3

Dean's life changed when he was 16.

First, Adam came home. He rode into the yard, leaping off his horse as he announced his return with a loud, excited yell. The stable boy, a young skinny lad named Garth, was the first to see him, and immediately directed all his attention to Adam's horse. While this was happening, Dean, who had been practising his archery skills in a paddock nearby, came racing into the stableyard. He caught sight of his adopted brother and cheered, hugging the man who was now 22 and on the cusp of becoming a knight.

"Adam!"

His cry brought Bobby and Karen racing out from the main house.

"Son! You're home!"

The next few minutes were spent hugging the returned son, during which Sam arrived home from having a day off to hang out with Jo. He, too, greeted Adam with the same joy exhibited by the rest of the family. Finally, they went into the main house dining room to sit down. Bobby was the first to address the question on everyone's mind.

"So what brings you back here, boy?"

Adam smiled.

"There's a tournament! An actual, real tournament that's going to happen over the Winter Festival in London. Jousting, fencing, racing – everything! And if I participate, I shall be made a full knight!"

Bobby clapped Adam on the back, Karen hugged him, and Dean and Sam stared at their brother in awe.

"Won't you need a squire for that, though?"

"Yes. That's….that's actually why I'm here." Adam suddenly looked nervous, and he looked at Dean.

"Dean, do you want to be my squire? All you need to do is carry some stuff for me, make sure my horse is okay, and just assist me in general. If that's okay with you, Dad."

"Of course I want to be your squire!" Dean shouted, at the same time as Bobby said "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Everyone looked at Bobby this time, Dean looking hurt.

"Why not?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, why not? You don't think I can do it?" Dean asked accusingly.

"It's not that, boys! I'm just worried about what could happen to you, is all. London is a big place, and you've never been farther than the next village over, Dean," Bobby said.

"Oh, come on! Please?"

There was no way Bobby could get out of this. He and Karen shared a look, and she gave a helpless shrug.

"Fine. But we're coming too. God knows what trouble you boys'd get into without us watching your back."

* * *

London was packed. The city was throbbing mess of people, from all over the country. Dean stared around him in wonder. People jostled past, shouting, laughing, and there were brightly lit banners everywhere. He was brought back to earth by a hand grabbing his elbow.

"Quit staring, boy, we gotta get to the lodge!"

The family made their way through the crowded streets, ensuring that they all knew where the rest were. Sam, normally confident, clutched at Dean's arm.

"Aw, come on Sammy! This is awesome!"

As he spoke, a woman at a nearby stall shouted at them. Or rather, screeched at them.

"Protective amulets! Guaranteed protection from attacks and injuries! Handy for young handsome knights!"

Bobby scowled and hauled them away.

"Damn fraudulent witches making my job harder," he grumbled.

They made it to the place they were lodging at in one piece.

* * *

Dean sprawled out on the bed, ignoring Sam's looks of disgust.

"What? I got to the room first, I get first dibs!"

"I still don't see why you aren't staying with Adam," Sam muttered, dumping his bag on his bed.

"Because, Sammy, it would be far too expensive. And this way, I get to annoy the hell outta you!" Dean smirked at Sam's scowl.

* * *

The man with the blue eyes reached the centre of London in the dead of the night. The last of the vendors had gone to bed, and the churchyard he found himself in was devoid of life. After casting one – unnecessary – glance around, he pulled an old, battered sword from under his cloak. He raised his arm, and thrust the sword deep into the large boulder that lay at the middle of the churchyard. As he did so, an inscription appeared on the sword, that was now buried to the hilt in stone.

_He who is able to remove me from this tomb of stone is King John's true son and heir to the throne of Albion._

The man (who had not aged a single day since he fell to earth) smiled and left the churchyard, briefly pausing to cast a look at the church itself.

The time had finally come.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Okay, this one is a long one. And I'm going to be updating this on a weekly basis (Tuesdays if I can), so wish me luck with that. I'm working on one fic per day here.**

**The Guest reviewer who said it was great - THANK YOU.**

* * *

Chapter 4

When Dean woke up with the next morning's sunrise, he was completely unprepared for the noise and bustle of the Londoners outside of his window.

_What…?_

He peered outside. The crowd appeared to be heading in one direction – towards the cathedral the family had walked past the day before. He ran over to Sam's bed, launching himself across the sleeping form of his younger brother.

"Wake up Sammy!"

"Dean! What the hell?!" Sam woke up with a yell, already reaching to punch Dean.

"Something's happening!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna kill you."

"No, Sammy look outside!"

And Sam did. He turned to Dean, gaping.

"Where are they going?"

"Guess we'll find out soon enough"

Bobby burst into the room, eyes wide and clothing askew. He looked at the two startled boys, who were still stood by the window.

"Good, you're awake. Get dressed, we're going"

"Where?"

"Where do you think, idjits? Where everyone else is going!"

* * *

After a hasty breakfast, the four of them joined the crowd, allowing themselves to be pushed down through the streets to the cathedral. Dean and Sam gaped at the sheer dense press of people gathered in the churchyard. Sam, still a gawky 12 year old, craned his neck eagerly.

"What's going on? I can't see! Deeean!" He begged. Dean snorted at his younger brother's childlike behaviour, but he could barely see what everyone was looking at either – just a faint sparkle in the distance.

"Sammy, hold onto my sleeve. We're gonna get to the front of the crowd."

Bobby and Karen watched as the two boys burrowed through the people in front of them, before turning to one another and continuing their conversation from last night.

"I still don't think they're ready"

"Karen, the boy's 16! I don't know how much longer we can give him – he's a man now!"

"Do you think he'll realise on his own?" Karen asked quietly, unable to say more for fear of someone overhearing. Bobby shook his head.

"Nah, they've inherited their dad's thick skull. They've got no reason to suspect anything, I guess we've got a couple more years of innocence with them."

* * *

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam had managed to elbow their way to the front of the crowd. A wooden barrier had been erected around a large boulder at the centre of the churchyard, and Dean and Sam were pressed against it by the weight of the amount of people behind them. They were too distracted by the sight in front of them to care, however.

A huge, Norse-looking man was standing atop the boulder that lay in the centre of the churchyard. His hair was thick and rested well past his ears to his shoulders. His entire body screamed 'brawn' – thick veins were present in his arm, neck and chest muscles and clearly stood out as he exerted himself. Sweat beaded and dripped off the man as he struggled to remove an object from the boulder he stood upon. Dean, momentarily distracted by the display of such masculinity, realised what it was the man was pulling at.

It was the rusted hilt of what appeared to be a old sword, deeply embedded within the stone as if it had been forged within its heart and never asked to leave. Any inscriptions upon the sword were covered by the rough, calloused hands of the warrior hauling at it.

"THIS is what everyone's watching? Some bullshit magic trick competition? This is even worse than that psychic at the fair that passed through last summer, Sammy. At least she was a witch brave enough to show herself – enough for me and Bobby to pay her a little visit." Dean scowled at the people surrounding them, remembering how the witch – named Bela – had taunted him after she had used her Sight to discover his preference for men. Apparently it had meant that the Kingdom would suffer. Whatever. Prejudiced bitch. "Let's go, Sammy, this is stupid."

* * *

The two boys found Bobby and Karen where they had left them. Their foster parents looked over the both of them anxiously.

"You boys alright?"

"We're fine, it's just some stupid magic trick. Dunno why everyone's so fussed." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Can we go find Adam now? He starts the tournament tomorrow and I need to help him get ready."

The four of them left the churchyard, oblivious to the fact that destiny was watching them leave, and planned to change any ideas Bobby and Karen had about preserving the boys' innocence for good.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent cleaning Adam's armour, ensuring his weapons were sharpened, cleaning his horse's gear, and ensuring that his horse, Kate, was well rested and fed in preparation for tomorrow. While Dean was occupied, Adam approached his father.

"Dad, there's something you need to know," he said seriously. Bobby looked up from where he was reading.

"What is it, son?"

"Are you aware of what is happening in the churchyard?"

"Dean said it was some kind of magic trick," Bobby said, looking at Adam pointedly. Adam shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

"Not…exactly"

"Well, what do you say it is?"

"At the centre of the churchyard is a boulder. There is an old sword that has been thrust into it rather deeply, impossibly so. No man is able to remove it, from what I've heard."

"Yeah, a bullshit magic trick by some witch with too much time on her hands. Why are you telling me this?"

"That's not the worst part"

"Then what is?" Now Bobby was concerned. Adam spoke softly, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye the whole time.

"The inscription upon the sword – it says 'He who is able to remove me from this tomb of stone is King John's true son, and heir to the throne of Albion'."

Bobby stared at Adam. As one, they turned and looked at Dean, who was merrily whistling rather tunelessly to himself as he polished Adam's breastplate. They looked back at one another, and Bobby cursed.

"Balls."

* * *

Karen, Bobby and Adam stood talking in the kitchen, in hushed whispers. Sam had left to go exploring, and Dean was still preparing for the next day.

"They were going to find out soon enough!" This was Adam, annoyed with his parents.

"Not like this! We wanted to tell them properly!" Karen, frantic with concern and despair at losing her two youngest boys.

"They're too young, Sam especially. That damn prophecy….and Dean's happy with how he is, how his life is. Sam's not even 13 yet." Now it was Bobby, his gruff voice laced with concern for the boys he regarded as sons.

"What are you going to do, then" Adam was still mildly pissed at his parents, but understood where they were coming from.

"We wait. If they work it out, we'll know. If not, we'll allow them – Dean, mostly – a few more years of peacefulness before he has to rule the damn country."

And Bobby's mind was made up.

* * *

Sam roamed the streets, unused to this amount of freedom. He wished he had someone to share it with, but Dean was back at the knight's holdings, helping Adam.

"I wish Jo were here," he thought to himself. He smiled as he thought of Jo's smile, the fun they had together, and the way her blonde hair seemed to capture the sunlight.

Sam stopped at a stall, purchasing an apple before continuing to explore. He ate thoughtfully, pausing to take in the strangeness of his new surroundings. Briefly, he wondered if there was somewhere he could go to sit and study the ancient texts he knew were stored in the keep at the church.

He was startled out of his reverie by someone jostling his elbow.

"Oops! Sorry!" said a girl who looked like she was just a bit younger than Sam. He smiled at her, noting that she looked kind of like Jo – blonde, with warm brown eyes.

"That's okay, I'm sorry I got in your way. I wasn't really looking where I was going," he apologised. The girl stared at him before smiling back.

"I guess we're even then. I'm Ruby." The smile she sent Sam's way caused his breath to hitch slightly.

"Sam."

"You look kinda lost, Sam. Need a guide?"

Sam was briefly taken aback, but took her arm.

"Sure."

"Great! My mother, Lilith, owns a tavern nearby. Why don't we go and get some proper food?"

The two adolescents walked through the crowd, arms linked.

* * *

Sam finally arrived back just before dusk. He had spent the afternoon at the tavern where Ruby lived with her parents, talking with the two women and trying the various dishes Lilith and her husband, Azazel, were wanting his opinion on. To Sam, they were a bit on the….meaty, strange tasting side, but he passed it off as city food. With the amount of foreign people constantly moving through the large settlement, the food was bound to reflect the variety of taste. He had left after promising to visit again, Ruby helping him find his way back to the lodgings. Sam felt stronger than he had ever felt before, and Ruby had smiled mysteriously, kissing his cheek before vanishing into the night. All in all, Sam had had a good day.

Dean was happy too, greasy from waxing armour, and excited for the next day. The two brothers collapsed into their respective beds, barely bothering to say anything aside from a mumbled "g'night" to one another, and too exhausted to bother washing before changing.

* * *

Dean awoke late the next morning, Bobby shaking him roughly.

"Get up Dean! Adam's waiting! It's about to begin!"

Dean shot out of bed, threw on his dirty clothes from the previous day, and bolted to the stableyard, where a horse was waiting. He quickly ensured he had all of the equipment he had so carefully cleaned yesterday – helmet? Check. Body armour? Check. Sword? Check – and took off for the tournament field. Adam had taken Kate's gear yesterday when he had left for his own lodgings the night before.

The blue eyed man, invisible, watched as Dean raced off on the borrowed horse. He snapped his fingers, and Adam's sword appeared in his hands. "You won't be needing this, Dean," he said softly, sorrowfully, to the retreating figure, who neither saw nor heard him.

When Dean arrived at the field, he found Adam quickly. Adam, who had been panicking, sent a glare his way as he approached.

"I'm sorry, Adam, I slept in, it was stupid, I'm really sorry-" Dean gabbled before Adam cut him off.

"Whatever, Dean, I just need my stuff"

Dean handed over the large bundle he had reverently prepared. Adam raised his head after checking it and looked at Dean, confused.

"Dean, where's my sword?"

"What? It's right there!"

"No, it isn't!"

"But I put it there last night! I double checked it"

"Well, I guess you didn't!"

They glared at one another until Adam spoke.

"Just go and get it, please," he sighed. "I need it as fast as possible!"

Dean grunted. He'd have to run back to the lodgings, taking a shortcut through the churchyard – his borrowed horse had disappeared. He began to sprint.

_I'm sure it was right there!_

* * *

Dean ran through the churchyard. Something caught his eye, and he stopped Dean. The answer to his problems was right in front of him! The sword was sticking straight out of the boulder, taunting him. It was no longer rusted, but almost glowed in the morning light. Dean thought for a second.

_It'll take me way too long to find Adam's sword and run back._

_This is a real sword, I'm sure of it, even if it is being used as a prop._

_There's no one around, they're all at the tournament. I'm sure no one will mind if I borrow it…._

_How hard can it be, anyway? The magic's probably worn off by now._

The 16 year old approached the boulder before climbing it. Ignoring what had been carved into the sword, he gripped the handle, set his teeth, and _pulled_.

He had not expected the sword to come out of the stone as easily as a knife through water. He looked at it in shock for a second, before jumping off the boulder in delight and running back to find Adam.

The blue-eyed man, seeing this, smiled sadly. Everything was going according to plan.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, knowing that once again, the boy couldn't see or hear him.

* * *

Dean ran up to Adam, who had been joined by Bobby and Sam.

"Got it!" He announced proudly, handing over the sword to Adam. Adam examined it, before saying in a carefully neutral tone,

"Dean. This is not my sword."

_Shit._

"Yeah, well…I didn't have time to look for yours, and this one was just lying around…I'm sorry, I'll take it back straight after!" Dean cried.

"Dean, did you even look at the sword?!" Bobby demanded.

"Sure I did, what do you mean?"

"Read." And the blade was back in Dean's hands. As he read the words aloud, he could only feel his stomach trying to make a polite exit via his feet as the men around them became deathly quiet.

"He who is able to remove me from this tomb of stone is King John's true son, and heir to the throne of Albion."

He stared up at his adopted family in horror, before looking at Sam, who had gone pale.

"But…I'm not…."

A brawny man from the crowd that surrounded them spoke suddenly.

"Damn right this greasy urchin isn't! Kid probably stole it from the real heir!"

"You shut your trap!" Bobby roared at him, but the rest of the men had begun to mutter and draw their swords. Dean was terrified, clutching at Sam with the hand that didn't hold the sword that had changed his whole life. Before anyone could do anything, however, there was a sudden flash of blindingly blue light. Standing before Dean was the most beautiful, ageless man he had ever laid eyes upon. Iridescent blue eyes shone from creamy pale skin, his lean frame covered by a loose tunic and topped with a mess of thick black hair that stood on end. His gaze penetrated Dean (and Dean could have waxed lyrical about where else he wanted to be penetrated by the man), and he spoke.

"This boy is King John's true heir, I swear it by all Gods of the past, present and future. Do not harm him, or you shall feel the wrath of the very sky fall upon you."

Dean yearned for the man to talk more, just so he could hear that rough, gravelly voice that sent tremors through his body. Dean had managed to sleep with almost every boy in his village – surprisingly enough most young men were open to experimentation, and Dean was very good at persuasion – but he had never felt lust pierce him as fiercely as it did when he looked at this man. However, the man disappeared with another blinding flash and what sounded suspiciously like the fluttering of wings. Dean then realised that everyone, including Adam, Bobby and Sam (who was still staring at him as if he had caused the sky to fall), were kneeling before him. He dropped the – now loathed – sword.

"Son of a bitch!"

* * *

**AN: If there are any mistakes, let me know. **

**REVIEWS ARE COOL**

**And in case you couldn't tell, this is going to be slow build, BUT THERE WILL BE DESTIEL. I'm also just trying to incorporate lots of plot and balance it all out, my drabble and other stuff are more Destiel focused though.**

**Thanks! Until next Tuesday!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Chapter Five! Awesome! A day later than I said it would be (sorry), stuff happened and yeah.**

** This isn't one of my more popular fics, but I'm really enjoying writing it and I'm just going to keep at it because it's gonna be pretty long. Some very slight Destiel this chapter! I'm updating everything I write on a weekly basis, so if you're reading my other crap, that's why it's a while between updates - I have one for each day.**

** - NO ONE ELSE I KNOW HAD READ THEM jfc. Thanks for your feedback too, made me feel special :)**

* * *

It had been two weeks, and Dean hated every minute of it.

He sat in the cold stone hall, listening to the whistling of the wind as it tore around the castle Caerlon. After a summer that had extended itself long into December, the snow had set in straight after Christmas Day – the day Dean had pulled the sword from the stone – almost as if it had been waiting for its cue.

Dean knew that this was the very same room in which his father had first heard news of the star that signalled his birth, but he took no joy from that knowledge. His parents, the ones he had never known, were dead, and Dean was now king. A single candle flickered beside him on the table, and Dean rested his head in his hands. A soft noise made him look up before peering at the figure that stood nervously in the doorway at the far end of the hall.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"Uh, Dean? I mean Your Majesty…I mean, umm…."

This, right there, is what was pissing Dean off. His own freaking brother – who was now a _prince, _he might add – didn't even know how to talk to him anymore. Tears briefly threatened to fall before he sat upright and banished the emotions.

"Please, stop. I'm Dean, you're Sammy" – "it's _Sam" – _"Bobby, Karen and Adam are still Bobby, Karen and Adam, and that's how it's gonna stay, okay?"

Sam visibly relaxed.

"Okay, Dean"

"So what was it you wanted?" Dean looked at him concernedly. Sam shifted on his feet.

"I kind of wanted to see if it was okay if I went out into the city again."

"Again? You were gone all day yesterday. I almost sent out a search party!"

"Yeah, but…..I get kinda lonely here. You're off being King, Adam's got his knight stuff to do, and Bobby and Karen aren't exactly my age, in case you hadn't noticed. I've got no one here to talk to, Dean."

Dean relented.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I'm just worried. Promise you'll look after yourself?"

Sam grinned.

"Yeah, I'll see you later. Thanks!"

And he ran out the room.

* * *

Sam strode through the city with a lot more confidence. Eventually, he was approaching the now-familiar tavern, and Ruby's head popped out the door.

"Hey, Sam!" she greeted, practically dragging him inside. Lilith smiled from where she was serving a couple of men some stew. The smell made Sam's mouth water and his stomach rumble. Which was weird, considering the fact that he'd managed to shovel down an entire plateful of roast duck and potatoes for lunch, but something about Lilith's cooking just made him want more. Bobby and Karen had shown concern for his expanding appetite, but Sam couldn't help it, and he could've sworn he'd grown a couple of inches recently.

So that was awesome.

"Hello Sam," Lilith said, heading back towards the kitchen. "You hungry?"

"God, yes," Sam breathed as he inhaled the scent of the stew she carried. Ruby and Lilith chuckled at that, and as Lilith added a few more herbs to the meal for him, a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"Sam! How have you been, son?" The boy in question looked up at the speaker. Azazel smiled down at him, his golden eyes flickering warmly. Although Sam had visited the tavern every day since the first day he had arrived, he had not seen Azazel in two weeks. He smiled back.

"Hello sir. I've been great, thanks," Sam responded, polite as always. Azazel beamed.

"Heard you're our prince, now! What's a fancy gentleman of the realm like you mingling with us commoners, huh?" At this, Sam blushed and glanced down, shifting away slightly so that Azazel's hand fell from his shoulder.

"Yeah, well….being a Prince is kinda lonely. And I like being here. So you're stuck with me, I guess." Ruby hugged him, and Sam allowed himself to be pulled in the direction of the kitchen table, where a steaming plate of stew lay waiting for him.

* * *

Three months passed. Sam gradually grew taller, much to Dean's consternation – "You can't be this tall, Sammy! Freaking Gigantor!" – and his time was divided between seeing Ruby and her family and browsing the archives in search of good reading material. Dean, with Bobby's help, grew accustomed to the meaning of being a ruler, and his reputation quickly spread as a fair-minded, just king, if a bit overwhelmed by how many problems he was being inundated with.

Suddenly, the reasons for his lessons in politics and history became painfully obvious, and he confronted Bobby about it one day.

"Bobby, have you just been training me to be King my entire life?" Dean demanded, stopping in the doorway to Bobby's office in Caerlon's archives. Bobby paused in his writings, looking up at Dean with incredulity.

"Boy, I never wanted this for you or Sam. Karen and I….we just wanted you two to have a normal, happy life. There was a small hope that that could've happened, but we knew it was unlikely." He put his quill down. "I have not been 'training you your whole life', Dean. I've been giving you life skills I would give any other boy, King or not. I did need to give you those more academic topics, but you are like a son to me. Not just some kid I trained to be ruler. So is Sam. And don't you forget it." Bobby finished talking, staring at Dean in concern. "You alright, boy?"

"Yeah, I'm…no. I'm terrified. All the time. I'm screwing this up. I have no idea what I'm doing, and the only one who seemed to have any grasp on what is happening is the one that saved my ass and then pulled a disappearing trick on us that day in the churchyard!" Images of blue eyes ran through Dean's mind. He'd been daydreaming (and night dreaming) about the man since that day 3 months ago, fantasising about that hair, those eyes fixed on his….that gloriously lean, toned body, the way it would feel pressed against him…not to mention the idea of those perfectly chapped lips wrapped around Dean's cock.

Woah. Not the time to be thinking about _that_.

Bobby frowned at him. "Forget about that man, Dean" – _if only _– "and focus on what you have to do. You've got a good head on those shoulders. You're shaping up to be a great King – besides, do you really think_ we_ would let you run this country into the ground?"

It was less than 15 minutes after they had this conversation that the war drums began.

* * *

Dean had known, just _known,_ that something would come along to bite him in the ass. He'd known it the second he'd found out he was King.

He just hadn't expected _this_.

The man who had shouted at him in the churchyard, calling him scrawny and denying his parentage, turned out to be one of the Low Kings. King Fergus Crowley of the North, to be exact.

And he was currently charging at Dean from across a battlefield at the head of an army.

Crowley had found every man who did not think Dean suitable to rule, and roused them into rebellion in order to put Crowley himself upon the throne in his place. Dean sat nervously on his horse as they approached. She was beautiful, strong, young black mare, capable of running for miles without relenting. Dean had named her Impala. He patted her neck, before turning to his army – _I run a goddamn army now_ – and screaming "CHARGE!"

* * *

Battles were messy and brutal, the blue eyed man mused.

He observed as the royal army fought against the rebels, cutting and slicing into flesh. He paid particular attention to where Dean stood on the crest of a small hill, striking down his opponents. The sword inherited from his father flashed as he brought it down, and he was soon surrounded by the bodies of fallen men. In the brief quiet he had, he gazed around him with a look of terrible pain. The blue eyed man could practically hear his thoughts – _they were right I'm a terrible King I don't deserve this and I killed them oh god oh god oh god_ – but before he could perform any magic to make Dean feel better, Crowley rose up from behind the youth. Dean turned around with a startled cry, and only just managed to block a killing blow from the man and strike back. They fought, Crowley managing to pierce Dean's shoulder, and Dean whacking him around the head with his sword so hard that the Low King fell back. As Dean stood there, unsure what to do, Crowley took the advantage and leapt up. He ran his sword straight into Dean's abdomen, and the boy King went a terrible shade of grey before collapsing onto his back. Cries of horror rang from the surrounding men, before Crowley raised his sword to deal the death blow. The blue eyed man appeared behind the rebel King, and tapped him on the shoulder. Crowley vanished. Dean gazed up at the new arrival, barely able to see through the fog clouding his brain, and a bitter mix of blood and spittle leaked from the corner of his mouth.

"It's…you," he coughed. "You made me King, and now you get to see me die. Hope it made you happy, you bastard."

He went limp, head meeting the rock beneath it as his eyes closed to the cold grey sky. The blue eyed man dived down, and as the now silent armies watched, he placed one hand over the fatal wound in Dean's stomach, and the other beneath his head. He raised the youth's head, and the hand over the wound began to glow as he gently, carefully, kissed Dean on the mouth, eyes closed.

Dean came to with a gasp, feeling the press of chapped lips upon his.

_So this is what happens after you die_, he thought hazily.

Green eyes opened, and he realised he wasn't after all, dead.

Blue eyes stared back, and the man pulled away almost reluctantly.

"I have healed you," he said gruffly, and Dean felt his entire body heat up at the sound of that voice despite the inappropriate circumstances. "Do not presume to assume that I wish for you to die. I wish for the complete opposite, Dean."

"Who the hell are you?" Dean breathed. "How did you…." He looked at his stomach in shock. The only sign of any injury was the blood coating his armour. The skin was remade, entirely new and healed. "You did this? Where's Crowley?"

"I will explain, Dean, but perhaps now is not the time. You must declare your victory and command these men."

Dean went white with fear.

"Come on, man! I just died! This was hardly a victory! What do I do?"

"Whatever you feel is right."

Dean stood up.

"Um, yeah. So Crowley's gone, and it doesn't look like I'll be dying anytime soon. I'm not asking you for much, I just want you guys to keep living, keep being what makes this land awesome, and put up with me when I make mistakes. Can we all live with that?"

There was a cheer. The men who had joined Crowley, after seeing their leader vanish and their King miraculously healed, went for the option that would keep them alive.

"Great. Now everyone just…go home or whatever, God knows I need to sleep for a week."

Dean looked to the man who had stood next to him quietly, and voiced his thoughts.

"You have to tell me who you are. And don't you dare disappear on me, I want answers!"

"My name is Castiel. I am the one who fell from the heavens to watch over you. And I am never leaving your side again."

* * *

**AN: Until next week! I'm about to start writing the next chapter for 'Who Are You?' as well, so keep an eye out for that because I want to update it later today. **

**Please review and stuff!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: As promised, here is chapter 6. Hope you like!**

**MariMagda - you're awesome. I'll leave the answer to your first question up to you. And in answer to your other things - Point 1 is half answered here, I do have the resolution for that all mapped out. Point 2 is going to be resolved more slowly, but I promise it will be sorted and will make sense later :) YOU ASK GOOD QUESTIONS. I LIKE YOU.**

**And here is chapter 6**

* * *

The next few weeks were beyond weird. When Dean woke up in the mornings, Castiel – _he finally has a name!_ – would be there, asking him if he was okay. He was a constant presence, even when he wasn't in the same room. He was always there when Dean needed advice or someone to talk to, who wouldn't treat him like a child (Bobby or Karen), or with general hesitation (Sam), or with terror (literally everyone else). It was refreshing. Dean had a best friend, someone who didn't hesitate to tell him exactly what he thought of him, and who helped him in the ruling of the country. The quiet, otherworldly man eased Dean's fears and the two of them grew closer each day.

It wasn't like he was exactly unattractive, either.

Often, Dean would glance up from an appeal he was reading through, just to see Castiel give him a knowing smirk before he returned to correcting the lore books that filled the library. Dean determinedly ignored the fact that every time this happened, his breath hitched slightly and he was forced to subtly adjust the way he was sitting as his pants tightened.

It was really not a good idea to want to bang a guy who was thousands of years old and could kill him with a single look.

Dean's libido, however, was entirely ignorant of this.

* * *

Sam and Bobby, of course, were ecstatic to have someone who knew so much. Sam would excitedly ask him about some ancient monster or myth, and Bobby would ask for advice on translating ancient texts.

There was the issue, of course, of Dean's knights.

As in, he had barely any.

Most of the ones who had served under his father were old, dead, or had refused to accept him yet. Castiel was the one who was changing that, encouraging Dean to appoint more knights and have tournaments to recruit those loyal to him.

So the next summer, when Dean had been ruling for a year and a half, that's exactly what happened.

The first knight to be made official, of course, was Adam. The knights who had been knights before (and who hadn't died in battle against Crowley) were reinstated under Dean's rule. There weren't many, though, and none of them were close to him. The tournament was on for a week, and it was the most tiring week of Dean's life.

Flags and gaudy banners were everywhere, which was pretty damn overly cheerful for Dean's taste, and there was the near constant sound of metal clashing as Dean sat and watched.

For hours.

And hours.

All. Freaking. Week.

There were a few men who really stood out, and Dean and Sam managed to befriend them, knowing that they were the ones who would become the greatest. They were pretty attractive, but Dean felt nothing towards them. It was weird, back when he lived in Bobby and Karen's village, he was incapable of taking his eyes off the boys his own age. They didn't mind, either – most afternoons he had off were spent in the barn, following the clichéd 'roll in the hay' with half the boys in the village. So Dean was slightly confused when he didn't automatically attempt to seduce the guys he was recruiting, instead letting his eyes wander all over Castiel as he moved through the crowd, or whispered in Dean's ear as to who he thought should be allowed into the higher order of knights. The shiver Dean felt when this happened obviously had nothing to do with the way Castiel's breath caressed his skin, and everything to do with the chilly weather.

In the middle of summer.

Right.

Finally, though, they had a fair amount of men selected to be both higher and lower knights, which was awesome. By the end of the week, Dean was exhausted, and Castiel was forced to half carry him back to his bedchamber. Dean toppled into bed, and smiled weakly up at him.

"Thanks, Cas. You're awesome, you know?" he said dreamily. Castiel snorted back, but suddenly felt decidedly awkward.

"Um. Thank you?"

"No no, I mean it. Looking after me and stuff, talking to me….it's cool. Like, no one else does anymore. Not properly. Sammy's always off doing God knows what, Bobby's gone back to doing his Astronomy thing, I don't really have anyone else. So thanks." Dean idly reached up to stroke Castiel's cheek before letting his hand fall back to his side. For the first time in his existence, Castiel didn't know what to do. He knew that he would have to be Dean's near constant companion through his life, fulfilling his duty to Fate, but he hadn't expected…..

Well.

This.

The heady rush of sweet tenderness he felt towards this boy – no, man now. Dean was 18 years old – and the way he simply wanted to curl up next to him, holding him against his chest as they fell asleep together. _That_ was highly unexpected, and Castiel tossed this newfound emotion around inside of him, trying to find words.

"You're welcome, Dean." Castiel finally said, brushing his lips over the King's forehead. "Sleep now. I will be here when you wake up."

"That's all 'm asking, Cas" Dean mumbled happily, before he rolled over, planted his face in the pillow, and fell asleep instantly.

Castiel was awake for most of the night, sat in the chair by the bed as his gaze moved between Dean and the opposite wall, thinking.

* * *

Sam was 14 years old, and he missed his best friend.

It had been almost two years since he saw Jo, and he still felt that fondness towards her, still wanted to see her every day and do nothing but mess around.

His visits to Ruby went some way to easing this, but the memory of Jo still nagged at the back of his mind.

He wondered what she was up to these days.

* * *

The weekend after the tournament, there was an official banquet at Caerlon to celebrate the initiation of the newly made knights. It was there that Dean found out something he knew he should have realised a while ago.

He sat at the head of a long and busy table, listening to the men laugh raucously as they ate. Bobby and Karen were to his left, Sam to his right, and Castiel was sat in the corner, ignoring everyone as he read. As a rule, he didn't enjoy eating around large crowds, and only suffered banquets because Dean begged him to be there – "I can't face all those people lone without you there somewhere!" – and his attention was entirely focused on Dean as he grinned at Percival and Aaron, the knights sat closest to him.

They had just finished the main meal when a guard ran in and whispered in Dean's ear. Dean, confused, briefly glanced at Castiel before he said "well. Show him in, then."

A few minutes later, the double doors at the end of the hall swung open, and a man strode in, beaming.

"Your Majesty!" he swept into a low bow, and Castiel could tell Dean was vaguely put off by this behaviour despite his poker face. "It is an honour! I am Sir Malcolm of Ireland."

"Yeah, um. I understand you have an offer to make me?" Dean stood so that he was in full view of the now silent table.

"Yes, of course. I know many before me will have probably approached you, your Highness, but I felt I should also make an offer. My daughter, Cassandra, is of a marriageable age now. I wished to make it known to your good self so that you may consider her in your long and arduous hunt for a bride."

Dean paled visibly before sitting down, unable to stand on his shaky legs. Castiel had already hurried over, and placed a soothing hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at Sir Malcolm before he addressed him.

"Thank you, Sir Malcolm. I certainly do have something to think about tonight. You may leave."  
Malcolm, brimming with pride, was shown the way out. The banquet continued, albeit with a more subdued tone.

* * *

"I have to get married?!" Dean paced his bedchamber, Castiel, Bobby, Sam and Karen looking on. "I mean, having to be King is bad enough, but…_married?!_ To a _woman?!_ I don't…I can't….." he sank down on the edge of his bed and began to hyperventilate. Castiel reacted on instinct, walking over so that he could pull the man so that he was curled with his back to Castiel's chest, the advisors arms around him as he made soothing noises while exchanging glances with Bobby.

"It is expected, Dean. As King, you must have a Queen and an heir. It's not something you can change, I hope you realise." He murmured into the blonde locks.

"I don't even like women, though! I can't marry one! I won't even be able to….you know….with a girl! I can't! How do I get out of this?!" Dean looked at his best friend desperately.

"You can't."

"The hell do you mean?!"

"You have no choice in this, Dean. I am sorry. As well as being your royal duty, it has been foretold."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

"I hate everything."

"Stop behaving like a child! You are a man, and a King! You will deal with this as such!" Castiel snapped, unable to take much more of this. "Simply find a woman you are able to get along with, someone who is your friend. Hopefully, she will understand, and you will be able to work from there."

After a few minutes of silence, Bobby and Sam not trusting themselves to say anything and break the moment, Dean reluctantly sat up, pulling himself away from the warm sanctuary of Castiel's embrace. He looked at them with dry, red rimmed eyes.

"I know what to do."

* * *

*two months later*

The royal party arrived in the village, and Dean and Sam jumped off their horses. Castiel stood nearby, watching them as they entered the tavern.

Sam went through the wooden door first, and the familiar face that greeted him lit up.

"Sam! How are you? It's been so long!"

Sam smiled forlornly, and a nervous Dean entered behind him.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Jo. You know all those years ago, when I said you were the one girl I'd ever consider marrying?" He bit his lip. "I need a favour"

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry, but I'm going to fic rec at you for a second. If you haven't read 'Thursday's Child', you really should. Amazing end!verse Destiel, incredibly welll-written. strangenessandcharm . dreamwidth 106978 . html**

**I hope the link I just put there works, if it appears just delete the spaces I've inserted, if it doesn't feel free to PM me and I'll send it to you. Also open to prompts and stuff if you have any ideas.**

**Another thing: Someone made an amazing thing and I need it in fic form. Here's the youtube link: www . youtube watch ? feature = player _ embedded & v = bvvYuMYVSoI**

**Again, if the link isn't showing up PM me, because honestly you will not regret it. Best Destiel trailer I've seen in forever.**

**That all said and done, don't be afraid to review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Much angst here people, but HERE BE DESTIEL ACTION. But it's shorter (sorry). **

* * *

Chapter 7

"You're kidding me."

Ellen spoke flatly, looking between her daughter and the two desperate brothers who sat across the table from them. "You can't…..Dean?"

Dean raised his hands helplessly.

"I know it's not what any of us would ever want but….I'm sorry. I'm desperate. I'm not gonna ask you to do anything you want to do I just….there's no one else I trust enough for this. You know I wouldn't ask this if I had any other option. I'm sorry. We'll go."

Dean made to stand up, but Castiel appeared by his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked up at him, taking comfort in the small touch even though he knew it was wrong, and Castiel looked right back, keeping his hand in place because he knew it was all that was keeping Dean grounded. Even though he wanted it to mean more. Jo and Ellen glanced at them, then Sam, who shrugged as if to say "I know".

After letting the two of them indulge, Jo cleared her throat.

"Okay."

Everyone in the room – Dean, Sam, Castiel, Ellen and Bobby – looked at her. Ellen was the first to speak.

"What?"

"I'll marry him. I mean, it's not exactly what I dreamed of getting in life, but I get to be Queen, don't I? You know, plus I get to see my two best buddies every day!" She gave Sam a forlorn smile before turning to face her mother. "I can do this. Let me."

There was dead silence. Dean stared at the floor, Castiel stared at Dean. Sam and Jo looked at them – did they even know what was going on between them? – and each other, and finally Dean sat up straight.

"All right. I'm getting married."

* * *

They set the marriage date for two years after that day. Two years for the country to hold its breath with anticipation. Two years for Jo to say goodbye to the only life she'd ever known, and for her to prepare to become Queen. Two years.

A lot can change in two years.

* * *

At the age of 16, Sam was already looming over most people in any given crowd. He still visited Lilith's tavern daily, and soon enough he and Ruby were courting, with her parent's full approval. Dean buried himself in work, often not emerging from his room for days as he rewrote peace treaties. Castiel was the only one to see him on these occasions, bringing him meals and ensuring he got enough sleep.

As the wedding day approached, Dean grew more and more haggard, and stopped leaving his room altogether. Castiel entered one day to find Dean facedown on his bed, surrounded by numerous pieces of paper and unmoving.

"Dean?"

No response.

"Dean.

Dean?

Dean!"

Dean jerked awake, and looked around blearily.

"What? What time is it?" Castiel sighed.

"Dean, it is noon. When did you fall asleep last night?"

"….sunrise?"

Castiel walked over to the bed, the opposite side of where Dean lay, and sat down. He arranged himself so that he leaned against the wall that the bed was propped against, legs stuck out in front of him. Sure enough, like he always did, the King rolled so that he was now half in the star's lap, head tucked into Castiel's chest with their legs tangled. It had become common practice for this to happen, Castiel comforting Dean when the stress of running a country threatened to break him.

_He really was not cut out for this duty,_ he thought sadly. As if tuning into his thoughts (which happened with alarming frequency), Dean spoke.

"Cas, I can't do this."

"What do you mean, 'can't do this'?" Castiel responded as he lightly stroked Dean's hair, although he suspected he knew exactly what Dean was talking about.

"I can't run a country. I can't be this responsible, all the time for literally everyone. I can't marry Jo, I've seen how her and Sammy used to look at each other, how they looked at each other when we went to ask her. They thought I didn't see, but I did. I can't do this, I can't! I can't even keep an eye on my own brother anymore! And I can't marry Jo, I like men for God's sake! And I…."

"And you what, Dean?" Castiel prompted when Dean's voice tailed off into nothing.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered into the worn cloth that covered Castiel's lean frame.

"If it matters to you, it matters to me," Castiel said firmly.

"I can't marry Jo when I have feelings for someone else."

Castiel's hand stilled in its movements. "Oh, really?" he asked, heart suddenly feeling as if it weighed a dozen pounds at the thought of this mysterious 'someone'. "Who?"

Dean gave a small, sad laugh. "You honestly can't tell? And here was me thinking you could read my mind."

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "I don't understand. I can only read your mind when you give me permission."

Dean finally raised his head and looked into his eyes. "Read it now," he whispered. And Castiel placed his hands on either side of Dean's face, closed his eyes, and looked into the kaleidoscope of his mind.

_It's you, dumbass._ As clearly as if he'd spoken aloud, Dean's voice echoed in his mind, and Castiel's eyes flew open and he looked at the King, who now looked completely terrified.

"Me?" Castiel asked, finally finding his voice. Dean gave a small nod.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," the blue eyed man murmured, pulling Dean in closer. Dean allowed himself to be guided in, utterly in Castiel's thrall as his gaze flickered between those overpoweringly blue eyes and those pink, chapped lips.

"Cas…." was all that Dean managed to breathe, before Castiel carefully brought their mouths together. He let out a soft whimper at the touch, uncertain of how to proceed and feeling his heart stutter before kicking itself into gear again. It was over just as soon as it had begun, the two of them looking into the other's eyes before Castiel muttered "Oh, fuck it," and pressed his lips to Dean's furiously, as if he wanted to devour Dean on the spot. Dean's mouth parted as he gasped, and Castiel took advantage of that, licking his way into Dean's willing mouth like he belonged there (which as far as Dean was concerned, he did) and wriggling down so that he lay with Dean, hands running all over the other man.

Dean's mind had packed it's bags and left, and all he could think was _Cas Cas Cas Cas Cas Cas_. His hands eventually settled on the small of Castiel's back, tugging him in so that their hips collided, and the part of his thought process that still had some grip on reality was delighted to see Castiel groan unabashedly in response to this. However, he was mostly preoccupied with how Castiel's mouth fit perfectly against his, learning the feel of the contours of those lips he'd been dreaming about since he was 16, and how Castiel's tongue knew exactly what it was doing as it languidly traced his lips before continuing to claim him. Suddenly, Castiel's mouth wasn't on his, and Castiel had moved his focus down, trailing a line with his tongue to the underside of Dean's chin – where he began to gently mouth at without including his teeth. Dean whined, struggling to make Castiel do _more, dammit_, but then Castiel spoke for the first time since they'd started, growling low into Dean's ear.

"Can't have you all marked up when your bride to be isn't even in the same city, can we? Not when you're due to be married in two weeks."

Dean moaned, the sound of his voice going straight to his groin, and Castiel continued to gently suck and mouth at the sensitive skin, careful not to leave a mark (albeit reluctant about this). Dean tugged at the thick brown locks, and Castiel's eyes met his. They paused, simply looking at each other, and Castiel shifted upwards so that he could place a small kiss on Dean's parted lips. Dean, overcome with emotion, felt his eyes fill with tears as he took the time to look at the man who had fallen from the sky for him.

"We can't do this, can we Cas?" he said in a low voice. Castiel bit his lip.

"It would not be advisable to continue this," he agreed, so quietly that Dean wouldn't have believed he'd spoken if he hadn't seen those wonderful, perfect lips move. Dean closed his eyes, forcing the sting in his eyes to recede, before adjusting his position so that the two men lay on the bed facing each other, arms still wrapped around the other's waist.

"This sucks."

"I know. We cannot change it."

And Dean dipped his head, and Castiel pulled him in so that Castiel now lay on his back, Dean's head buried into his shoulder as the ruler of the country finally allowed himself to weep - with a star stroking his dirty blonde hair as he stared numbly at the unforgiving stone ceiling.

* * *

**AN: Thoughts? Opinions? Am I doing okay? TELL ME PLEASE**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This one kind of sucks sorry, I didn't have much time to work on it because I'm in the middle of putting everything I've written onto ao3 as well, and I've been sick, and working on other fics.**

** - shhhhh I'm making it angsty and stuff shhhhh I mean I know but shhhh. That actually sounded really mean I DIDN'T MEAN TO SOUND MEAN OKAY I LIKE YOU**

**ATTN EVERYONE: Kinda going with the whole marriage = monogamy = if Dean has an affair he'll look like a douche = if Jo has an affair she'll be burned = Jo has to spawn Dean's offspring for a legitimate heir crap.**

**And I mean I've read those things as well but I also read one where Guinevere was like hey that dude's got a nice butt and everyone was like BURN HER.**

**So yeah IDK that's where I'm going with this I guess.**

* * *

Chapter 8

His hands wouldn't stop fucking shaking. He glared at them for a minute, before realising it was hopeless and stood stiffly to attention, watching as Jo made her way down the aisle. Too late, he remembered he was supposed to be smiling, and plastered a grin on his face. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Sam shake his head subtly, and toned down the smile a little, so he would look less like a terrifying murderer and more like a guy excited to be getting married.

If by 'excited' you mean shaking so hard from nerves he's pretty sure the entire assembly can see it, and sweating his ass off.

Yeah, excited.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel stood by the doorway to the little alcove that Dean had been freaking out in not half an hour before. The star gave him a little half-nod, and Dean relaxed minutely, able to actually breathe. Jo finally reached the altar, and looked pretty much exactly how Dean felt. He took pity, and reached over to place his hand on hers gently. He ignored the collective 'awww' from the onlookers, and instead focused on the small, thankful smile his "childhood sweetheart" shot his way.

_Man, this is messed up._

The entire country had swallowed the story of Dean and Jo, the childhood sweethearts who had grown up together and were courting, but were tragically separated when he took up the mantle of King. Dean – the romantic hero (Dean was really starting to hate this guy) – had ventured back into her life after realising he needed a wife, and had officially proposed in the town square on bended knee to Jo, who was sobbing (with joy, naturally).

It was ridiculous.

After the night that they'd kissed, Dean and Castiel were….more of the same. They didn't kiss again, and it was killing Dean to be this close to the guy and not be able to do what he wanted with him. He knew it was killing Castiel too, from the way they would catch the other staring, and Castiel's fists would involuntarily curl at his sides from want.

Dean realised he was staring at Castiel (who was, naturally, staring back), and immediately shifted his attention to the Archbishop, who was droning on and on and _on_ about "true love" or some bullshit, and all Dean could think about was how he'd never be able to feel Castiel's lips on his own, or the rough scratch of his stubble scraping across his jaw.

Or anything else involving him and Castiel and body-to-body contact.

He resisted the temptation to scrub a hand down his face, and took a moment to worry about Jo and the expression on her face after seeing Sam and Ruby holding hands.

The 'best day of his life' was shaping up to be the worst, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Finally, the words "you may now kiss and seal your union as man and wife" were spoken, and Dean leaned in to kiss Jo. As their lips touched, he murmured "sorry" against her mouth, and she nodded imperceptibly.

And it was done. They were married, just like that.

* * *

There'd been a banquet, and jousting, and a whole bunch of other stuff that had gone right over Dean's head. For the life of him he couldn't remember who'd won the tourney – Adam, maybe? – because he'd literally just sat there staring into space.

And now he was in his bedroom, and Jo was in hers, and she was getting ready to walk through the hallways to come to him and consummate their marriage.

So, naturally, Dean was sat on the edge of his bed, head between his legs as Castiel and Sam wound him down from a panic attack.

"I can't have sex with her! It'd be like banging my sister! She's a girl!" he hissed. Sam shrugged helplessly at Castiel, who was rubbing soothing circles into Dean's muscular back. "And especially because of the whole Sam thing!"

"Wait. What 'Sam thing'?" Sam asked, confused. Dean managed to gather himself enough to look at his younger brother and roll his eyes.

"Come on, you two were totally a thing when we were kids. Did you not see her when she saw you and that bar chick?"

"Her name is Ruby! And me and Jo weren't…..I don't…just don't, Dean." Sam sighed heavily through his nose.

Castiel, taking pity, simply said, "Sam, can you give us a minute alone, please?"

Sam left the room to stand outside, refusing to think about what Dean had just blurted out.

Castiel forced Dean to sit up and look him in the eye.

"Dean, you need to do this."

"I don't wanna!" Dean whined, trying to wriggle out of his best friend's grasp. Castiel held on firmly.

"Dean."

Dean slumped, head on Castiel's shoulder.

"Why me, Cas? This sucks," he groaned, voice muffled. Castiel closed his eyes, knowing that Dean was talking about more than just being married.

"I know, Dean. But this is not something you have a choice in. You were born for this. I am merely here to guide you along the path that is truly yours. I have faith in you." He raised Dean's chin, and they were nose to nose. Castiel's breath hitched as Dean's pupils widened, and before he could restrain himself he had tugged Dean closer, pushing their mouths together. Dean let out a noise that was on the verge of a sob, forcing himself into Castiel's space so that he was virtually on top of him. Their mouths and bodies fit together perfectly, aligning in all the right ways. As Castiel gasped into Dean's mouth, allowing the King access to slide their tongues alongside one another, he shuddered from the desire coursing through his body, and was only capable of one thought: _**This**_ _is what we were created for._

He stopped moving, halted by the vehemence of that disturbing thought, and pulled back from Dean's face with reluctance. Dean let out a needy whimper, eyes slowly opening and lips parted as he panted, hot gaspy breaths that thrummed within Castiel's every nerve.

"Dean."

"Cas, please don't say it," Dean said desperately, tears in his eyes. "I know, okay? I know. I just want this memory. Let me have this."

And Castiel, knowing it would be his most selfish act – _he is married you have no right to him_ – dragged Dean down again, slamming their mouths together hungrily as Dean straddled his lap. Dean's hands were fisted in his hair, tugging gently as his tongue begged for more. Castiel, lost to his own need, moved his lips from Dean's and placed small kisses across Dean's face – his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids – before returning to his mouth, Dean sighing with content as he let Castiel caress his face with worshipping kisses.

"You – deserve – so – much – better," Castiel growled between kisses. "I am truly sorry that this is your fate." He ran his fingers through Dean's hair, looking up slightly at the Boy King as he rested their foreheads together so he was able to see in to the mossy green eyes. "If I could change it, I would," he whispered, and Dean closed his eyes, allowing a salty tear to trickle down his cheek.

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep with Jo," he said, "Not tonight, probably not ever. I'm letting down everyone."

"You could never let me down," Castiel responded instantly, and Dean began to cry in earnest, head once again falling to the Star's shoulder. Castiel held him like that, and they sat there for a while, holding one another, until it was time for Jo to leave her chambers and come to bed her husband.

* * *

Sam had left.

He knew it was a horrible thing to do, but after what Dean had said about him and Jo...he knew it was true, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

So he went to Ruby.

Standing outside the tavern, he was wondering whether or not it was a good idea when a blonde head stuck itself out the upper window.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Sam let out a grimace.

"I'm...I needed to see you. Um. Sorry. I'll go, you sleep." He turned to walk away, to wander the empty streets, but Ruby hissed his name again.

"Sam! Come in through the back entrance. There's a set of stairs just inside, my room is up there."

Sam cautiously pushed the door open, closing it with a soft click behind him before tip toeing his way up the wooden stairs. Ruby stood at the top, in...

In her nightgown.

"Ruby! I can't be here, this is inappropiate!" Now Sam was panicking. What would Dean, what would _everyone_ say if they knew that Prince Samuel, brother to the King, was in a tavern in the dead of the night, with an unwed virgin?

Ruby appeared to have no such qualms, however, and pulled him into her room.

"Sam, tell me what's wrong."

"My brother is married and miserable. He hates being the King, he hates being married! And there's nothing I can do to help him." Sam's face crumpled, and he blinked back tears. "My whole life he's been looking after me, and now he's the one that needs help and there's nothing I can do!" Ruby hugged him, and Sam - God help him - couldn't help his arousal at the feel of her bare breasts beneath her nightgown. Ruby obviously felt it too, and she turned his face towards him as she whispered, "Sam, it's okay."

Sam, drunk on the way her gaze captivated him, was unable to stop himself as he leaned in and kissed her fiercely. Ruby responded in kind, and soon enough Sam was stripped of his clothing, Ruby slowly slipping her own nightgown off. Sam felt like he was watching from a distance as he kissed and licked and stroked her naked body, finally dipping his fingers inside of her as she writhed beneath him in pleasure. He curled his fingers in and out of her, and managed to locate the spot that made her bite her fist so that she wouldn't let out a wail of abandon. Finally, finally, Sam was guiding himself inside of her, driven by lust and desperation, and Ruby used a strength he had no idea she possessed to roll so that she was riding Sam. They rocked back and forth together, Sam sliding in and out with ease, and soon enough they were coming, Sam sheathed inside her tight, wet heat as she pressed her lips to his and muffled his groans.

As soon as it was over, Sam realised exactly what it was he had just done.

"Shit. Oh god. I...shit! I have to go. I'm going." He grabbed his clothes and threw them on haphazardly, Ruby making absolutely no move to stop him. As he reached the door, though, she spoke.

"Sam."

He turned.

"Don't forget me."

He didn't linger on what she meant - what the sly smile meant - as he gabbled "I'll come back" and slipped out the door, down the stairs, and ran all the way back to the castle.

When Sam returned to the tavern the next day, Ruby, Lilith and Azazel were gone.

There was absolutely no sign that they had ever been there.

* * *

**AN: I've never written hetero sexy times before.**

**That sounds so fucking weird, but I haven't, okay? So tell me if I wrote it okay because the only hetero sex I've had with a dude was really, really shit. So sue me.**

**Reviews are welcome!**

**Also in this 'verse screwing a chick and knocking her up before marriage is NOT OKAY and also Sam is a Prince so yeah, not a good move for him.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Shortest chapter yet (I'm pretty sure. Aside from the first one), because a) it's late, b) late because I've been looking at university stuff, c) I'm also trying to update my fic Who Are You? tonight as well, and d) I just watched the latest episode and I'm emotionally compromised. Feel free to talk about it with me.**

**So yeah, shitty and short chapter. I'm gonna spend some time over the next few days just planning this fic out because I'm kind of at a loose end here - I have a bunch of ideas and it's hard getting them out how I want them. Review responses at the bottom.**

* * *

Chapter 9

"Dean, it's okay."

"No, it's fucking not!" Dean sat up and buried his face in his hands. "How can we make an heir if we can't even...?" Jo sat up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. She stared blankly at the opposite wall, and sighed. They had been married for two years, and Dean was still physically incapable of becoming aroused for Jo. He looked at her desperately.

"It's not that you're not….I just…" he shrugged. Jo offered a weak smile.

"I know, I know. You don't exactly do it for me either." They lay back and stared at the ceiling, holding onto one another's hand. Dean finally spoke.

"So what do we do?"

Jo shrugged.

"Raid the kitchen?"

So they did. They sat in the kitchen in their nightclothes, protected from the cool night air by the thick stone walls surrounding them. Castiel walked in as they were tucking in to a huge sandwich each at the large wooden kitchen table, and Dean felt his heart stutter as Castiel smiled fondly at him. Nothing had happened between them since the night of Dean's wedding, and it was becoming physical painful to have nothing more than the odd friendly touch on the arm. Jo felt a pang of guilt as she watched the two of them gaze at one another, and she quietly went to leave the kitchen with her food. Dean caught her arm.

"Hey, where are you going?"

She looked pointedly between him and Castiel.

"Back to bed."

Dean's hand slid off her uselessly. Castiel observed the two of them, his expression unreadable.

"Okay."

As she left, she saw Dean grasp at Castiel's hand, clinging to it for all he was worth, and Castiel's eyes closed in undisguised longing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued to walk.

* * *

Dawn saw Dean and Castiel still awake in the kitchen. They sat against the wall, Dean cradling Castiel as the blue eyed man lay across his body, stroking his hair. They hadn't spoken much, just sat together and held one another chastely, occasionally dozing off. Dean scowled as the room began to lighten, rendering the candles redundant.

"We should leave. The kitchen staff will be here shortly," Castiel mumbled from where his face was buried into the inside of Dean's elbow. However, he didn't move an inch. Dean gave a bittersweet smile.

"I guess. Wanna go for a walk?"

"Not particularly. I would rather stay here," came the answering grumble. Dean gave a small laugh, and shifted Castiel so that he could stand up before hauling the man to his feet.

"Come on, you're the one who said we should go."

"I didn't meeean it!" Castiel whined as Dean dragged him along the empty corridor. Behind them, the sounds of the cook entering the kitchen were audible. He stumbled, tiredness over-taking him, and Dean caught him, laughing. The laughter died as they realised they were pressed chest to chest, staring into one another's eyes. Dean's breath caught, and Castiel licked his chapped lips, green eyes following the movement. Without realising it, they were so close their breaths intermingled.

A loud clatter from the kitchen, echoing along the hallway, startled them. They pulled away abruptly, albeit reluctantly, and continued as if nothing had happened. Dean didn't catch hold of Castiel's hand again, and Castiel felt himself missing the warmth and pressure that kept him grounded to earth.

They ended up meandering through the gardens as the sun rose, not really talking aside from the odd "I didn't know we had an apple tree!" "Dean, it's _your_ fortress, and where did you think the pie ingredients came from?" "…magic?"

One thing the pair didn't realise was that they were being watched.

* * *

Later that day, the delivery everyone had been waiting for arrived. It had been hand crafted by the men of Dean's home village, and was their wedding gift to him on behalf of Jo. Two years late because of the intricacies of the carvings, the Round Table arrived at Dean's new fortress of Camelot.

"The Hall won't look so empty anymore!" Dean crowed as they watched the workmen place the Table in the centre of the Great Hall. They'd gotten rid of the long, rectangular dining table a month before in preparation, and Dean was ecstatic – he would be able to dine with everyone without being ostracised. He hated the status afforded to him as King – everyone feeling inferior to him and treating him with far too much reverence.

Once the Table had been set down, Dean examined the names engraved on each individual place. Some were of men that he already knew – Sam, Adam, Percival, Aaron, Henry, Rick – but others were completely foreign to him. He stopped at one.

"Who's 'Gabriel'?" he asked nobody in particular.

"A future brother-in-arms," came the response. He whirled around. Castiel stood there, leaning against the doorframe located behind Dean.

"Jeez, Cas! Don't scare me like that!"

"My apologies," Castiel said. He remained where he was, watching Dean as he made his way closer to where his seat was before pausing again.

"What person names their kid 'Lucifer'?" he grinned, and glanced over at Castiel. His smile faded. A dark shadow hung over Castiel as he frowned.

"Cas?"

"Nobody important." The response was clipped and harsh. Dean flinched.

"Cas….."

"Don't ask me this, Dean. You will find out who these people are when the time comes, no earlier." Castiel strode away, leaving Dean bewildered behind him.

* * *

Sam had taken off not long after Dean and Jo were married. He had no idea where Ruby and her family were - it was like they'd disappeared off the face of the Earth. He rode through the northern forests, searching for a cause to fight for. Anything to get the memory of Jo, the girl he had been in love with since he was a child, and Dean, his beloved older brother, out of his head. He missed the simplicity of his childhood. He missed the feeling he had gotten from being with Ruby - like he could take on anyone and win. When he had been with Ruby, the memory of Jo was easy to push away. Sam thought of the night of Dean's wedding, the last time he saw Ruby.

Was it possible that he was now a father?

He cast away that thought quickly. No, if he was, Ruby would have stayed and told him.

Sam was barely aware of his surroundings when the werewolf attacked. It lunged for his horse, striking her down. He fell to the ground with a cry, and drew his silver knife. He may not have trained with Dean, but Bobby had given him some lessons after they had discovered the truth of their heritage. The werewolf made to bite at his leg, and he struck out blindly, cutting deeply into the beast's neck. It howled, and went for his throat. As it landed on his chest, Sam thrust upwards with his knife, and the werewolf went still, its lifeblood coating him. He stood, covered in slick red blood, and looked at where his horse lay dead.

Sam ran.

He crashed through the undergrowth, and after ten minutes of being suffocated by his dented riding armour, he fell to his knees in a clearing. Blood - his own, now - spilled through open wounds caused by the werewolf's claws. He heard a distant female voice shouting, and the world went dark.

* * *

Soft light pierced his eyelids, and a voice was singing.

Sam opened his eyes, and looked around. He was in a bedchamber, morning light flooding through the gauzy curtains around him. He pushed them aside, and fell out of the soft bed he had woken up in.

"Oh! You're awake!" the speaker was a young blonde woman. Evidently, she had been the one singing, and she had half risen from her chair in the corner. Sam reflexively went for his sword, and found that he was dressed in nothing but his underclothes - scratch that, not even _his _underclothes.

"Where the hell am I? And who are you?" he demanded. The girl smiled, and something in her face reminded Sam of Jo.

"You are in the Castle Stanford. You collapsed in our garden, and I had you brought up here to heal. What is your name?"

Sam blinked. "My name is Sam. Prince Samuel. You didn't answer me - who are you?"

Her eyes widened.

"My name is Jessica."

* * *

**AN: Sorry. Guess who Jess is meant to be!**

**Reviews:**

**ToriMe - ONE OF MY FAVE AUTHORS JUST SAYING. **

** - I have stuff that I'm gonna include and yeah I don't wanna do spoilers (which sounds stupid because everyone knows King Arthur but this is my fic so I have spoilers) so keep an eye out for stuff.**

**MariMagda - OKAY I LIED JUST NOW SLIGHT SPOILER BECAUSE THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING FOR EVERYONE WE LIKE. And I kind of had the whole Jo as Queen thing in my head for ages because of the Jo/Dean ship and the fact that I think if they'd been given more time together they could've become good friends in the show. **

**Anyway, sorry again, and see you next week!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Next weeks update might be late, I'm going to visit my sister. I will try and be on time though! I'm also trying to stay up to date with my other fics and cross-posting to AO3 and writing for DCBB. So yeah. Those are my crappy excuses. Review responses are at the bottom.**

* * *

Chapter 10

A week later during lunch, Dean was staring at the empty space at the table where Sam's name was inscribed gloomily. He knew Sam could take care of himself, and his reasons for leaving, but it still hurt.

"I miss him," he said abruptly to no one in particular. Jo, seated next to him, placed a hand over Dean's right comfortingly.

"I know."

"Do you think he'll ever come back?" Dean asked morosely. Jo rolled her eyes at Castiel, who moved off the wall from where he was leaning.

"Of course he will, Dean!" Jo sighed. "He's your brother. He loves you."

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's left shoulder, and Dean's skin burned at the contact.

"Sam's fine, Dean, and he will return to you. He's been looking up to you his whole life, he needs to go and see the world for himself."

Dean leaned back into the comforting touch. "Yeah, I know. I'm just…blagh. I'm gonna go for a ride." He stood and walked out the Hall, Castiel's hand falling uselessly to his side as he watched him go. He and Jo looked at one another.

"We're going with him, aren't we?" Jo said. Castiel nodded, and she gave a small sigh before standing up.

"I thought as much."

They walked out the Hall, and went to find Dean.

* * *

A week had passed, and Sam had settled in at Castle Stanford rather well. There was an enormous library he was able to lose himself in, and Brady, the father of Jessica, was content to let him stay for as long as he pleased. Sam also suspected that he was trying to set up him and Jessica, and Sam wasn't sure he even minded. Jessica – "call me Jess, Sam!" – was beautiful, sweet and smart, and Sam was determinedly ignoring her resemblance to Jo. They spent their days perusing the library, and eating and talking in the sunshine. Every time Sam mentioned repaying them for their hospitality, Brady was horrified. He insisted that it was their duty to repay Sam for killing the werewolf that had plagued the for so long, and Sam's guilt at finding out that it had been a lovely young woman named Madison from the surrounding village was tempered by Jessica's smile.

_Maybe this will do as a substitute for…home._

The same day that Dean was bemoaning his younger brother's absence down south, Sam was leading Jessica by the hand through the trees around Stanford, laughing.

"Hey, Jess?" he said, stopping to face her.

"Yeah?"

"You're really beautiful, you know that?" Sam spoke seriously, and cupped her face in his enormous hand. She smiled.

"Thank you, Sam. You aren't so bad yourself," Jess said, and Sam gently brought her face up so that their lips met. They both smiled into the kiss, Sam with a tinge of sadness. He pulled back quickly.

"This is okay, right?" he asked uncertainly. Jess snorted.

"Of course it is, Sam."

They kissed once more, and Sam was able to forget.

* * *

Dean took off out the stables on Impala, Castiel and Jo close behind. They rode for a good half hour, until they were out of the city limits and deep within a forest. Jo had had the presence of mind to bring some apples with them, and they alighted in a clearing. They allowed their horses to wander, and Dean flopped down onto the soft grass, Castiel sitting next to him.

"I'm going to walk," Jo said, and she moved between the trees until she was out of sight. Dean allowed his hand to link with Castiel's.

"I like this. This is nice," he said in a sober tone, and Castiel understood.

_This is what I could have had._

Castiel shifted so that Dean was able to put his arm around him and take his hand with his other one, and they stared up at the canopy of leaves above them.

"When I was a kid, I always dreamed…..I always just wanted to be able to hunt and ride across the land, you know? Just to be free and do what I love." Dean's voice was sombre, and Castiel squeezed his hand.

"I wish you could have had that life, Dean."

"Eh, it ain't so bad," Dean looked at where Castiel was tucked into his side. "I got you, don't I?"

"You will always have me, Dean," came the quiet reply. Jo, watching through the trees, saw their mouths meet, and Dean gave a small sigh of contentment as his eyes fluttered shut. She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes.

"I wish it could always be like this," Dean whispered against Castiel's mouth. "Do you ever think we could have that?"

"I wish we could, Dean."

Dean stopped his wishful thoughts, and they continued to kiss, celebrating their stolen moment for all it was worth. In another clearing, Jo stared into a pool of water, and thought about Sam.

* * *

Sam came home a year later.

He rode into the forecourt, alone, shoulders hunched against the torrential rain that was pouring down. Dean burst out the heavy wooden doors and beamed.

"Sammy! You're back!" he hugged his younger brother, and realised Sam's despondency. "Sam?"

"I…..I need to talk to you."

Once they were seated by the roaring fire in Dean's room, in dry clothes, Sam began to tell his story.

He told them about the dragon he had slain in Wales, the vampire nest he had eradicated in Cornwall. Finally, he told them about the werewolf girl he had killed, and about Jess. Jo's jaw tightened when he told them about how after nine months of courtship, they had gotten married. Almost two months later, Sam had left her.

"I didn't…..I don't love her, Dean. I felt so damn guilty. I explained to her, and she cried. So much. I'm a terrible person," Sam was crying now, and his hair hung to his shoulders. Dean let his brother cry and pulled him in so that his head rested on Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy, I spent your whole life watching out for you, and the past three years worrying about you. You are not a bad person, and you never will be. You can't help not loving her. We'll sort this out, okay?"

Sam shrugged. "Okay."

He allowed Dean and Jo to guide him to bed, leaning heavily on the pair of them in exhaustion. Dean looked at his unconscious form helplessly.

"What do we do?"

Jo folded her arms.

"We let him decide what he wants." And without another word, she turned and walked to her bedroom. Dean, resigning himself to sleeping alone once more, went to his bedroom, his mind heavy with thoughts of his younger brother, Jo, the kingdom, and Castiel.

He was pleasantly surprised to find Castiel waiting for him, a glass of whiskey in each hand.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean drained the glass in a single gulp. "What do I do?"

Castiel took the glass from him and set it on the table. "You allow your brother to choose his own course of action. You know how he feels about Jo, and Jessica was a comfort for him. He knew that it wasn't enough, so he left her. You cannot order him to return to her, nor can you order him to stay."

"You weren't even in the room when we were talking about it! How the hell do you know?"

Castiel smirked. "I have my ways."

Dean was unable to bear it anymore, and he pulled Castiel in for a kiss. Castiel melted against him instantly, and they stood there for an incalculable amount of time, hands easily finding their way into the spots that were well accustomed.

"I'm never going to get tired of this," Dean whispered.

"Of the sneaking around or the kissing?"

Dean pulled away and sat on his bed.

"Don't say it like that. You of all people should get what I mean, how I feel!"

"Dean…"

"No! I'm so….I've been King three years and it's sucked the entire time! I'm married to a girl who is in love with my younger brother and who I think of as a sister, my brother is married to a girl he never wants to see again because he's in love with my wife, I haven't had real sex since I was 16, and I'm in love with my best friend! The only thing that's going right is the country, which is a fucking miracle because I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Castiel knelt in front of him.

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that. I am angry, yes. But not at you. Never at you. I am angry about your situation, I am angry about your needless pain. I am also incredibly jealous of the fact that I am unable to have you for myself," he admitted, lowering his gaze. "I'm in love with you, Dean, and I never meant to be. But seeing you go through this every day, and knowing I can never fully have you? It hurts, Dean."

"Cas," Dean breathed brokenly, and he pulled Castiel in for a searing kiss before pulling back slightly.

"Make love to me, Castiel. Just this once, let's forget."

* * *

**AN: Next chapter there will be smut, okay? I'm too tired to write crap right now sorry but yeah they finally gonna do the butt thing. **

**MariMagda - Jo and Dean make me sad for many reasons ugh. And thanks! :D Nah Jess is someone else who was with Lancelot :3 close though! It'll become obvious next chapter anyway.**

**Reviews and stuff are welcome all the time!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: To make up for my random one week hiatus, have about 2000 words of sheer porn. Review responses are at the bottom. Kinda like Dean is.**

* * *

Chapter 11

Castiel stilled, inches from Dean's mouth.

"Dean…." He breathed against Dean's lips. Dean shivered.

"I want this, Cas. I want you."

Castiel licked his lips and nodded.

"Okay."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Dean surged forward again, dragging Castiel in for another kiss that left them both breathless. Soon enough Castiel was pushing Dean backwards onto the bed, Dean willingly falling onto his back and receiving Castiel with open arms. For a while they simply lay there, kissing one another. At first it was slow, deep and tender, tongues lovingly roving the inside of one another's mouth until they were both breathless. Then Dean, after pulling back for a desperate gasp of air, pulled Castiel's lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it and giving it a nibble before running his tongue across it and diving back into Castiel's mouth for more. Castiel had trouble keeping his eyes open as he panted harshly, sliding his hands under the coarse linen Dean wore to run them over the warm skin that was literally humming with energy and lust. Dean couldn't respond fast enough – he shucked off his shirt and trousers, before devoting his attention to ensuring Castiel was in the exact same predicament. Finally, they were grinding against one another, naked, and Dean whimpered at the relentless, addictive friction that came from the feel of blissful skin on skin.

"Caaaas," he whined, and Castiel paused to look at him with a hungry expression. His pupils were blown wide, and he licked his lips. He looked almost….feral with unguarded desire, and Dean shivered with just how badly he wanted – no, _needed_ the inhuman being.

"Are you sure, Dean?" Castiel breathlessly asked, still ruthlessly rutting against Dean with a fierce abandon. Dean keened and nodded, throwing his head back. Castiel took the opportunity to attack his neck, softly laving at the golden freckled skin with a rough tongue, allowing goosebumps to rise.

"Yes, Cas, _yes_!"

"Turn over."

Dean obeyed instinctively, his brain hardly registering as the low, throaty command went straight to his groin. He bit back yet another moan as his throbbing erection was then pinned against the mattress, and he began to writhe.

"Cas, please!"

Castiel ran a slim hand up Dean's thigh, admiring the way he shook underneath the gentle touch. He kneaded the muscles of Dean's backside soothingly, before lowering his head to the quivering mass of flesh beneath him.

Dean cried out when he felt the cool dip of Castiel's tongue on him. An inhuman wail of pure want tore itself from his plump, parted lips as Castiel gently licked around his opening, before entering him. He rocked his hips up, presenting himself to the night air, and Castiel hungrily tasted more, licking and sucking at the warm, needy flesh beneath his mouth. Finally, he stopped teasing the King and began to suck two of his fingers, reaching around Dean with his other hand to run a delicate finger up and down the vein that pulsated along the underside of Dean's cock, which was almost purple with the need to come.

"Ssshhh, Dean. I need you to be calm for me."

Dean stopped his needy thrusting against the bed, allowing Castiel to palm his backside once more before massaging his rim, and slowly inserting a finger. This caused Dean to cant his hips upwards almost instantly, searching for more. Castiel obliged, unable to deny the man anything, and was shortly able to add a second finger and begin to scissor Dean open in preparation.

Dean was 99% sure he was dreaming, or about to go insane with the way Castiel was opening him up with a single minded devotion. When Castiel added a third finger, he lost all semblance of self-control, and put the toned muscles of his thighs to what he considered extremely good use, fucking himself on Castiel's lean fingers with a frantic desperation. Castiel curled his fingers, and watched in awe as Dean slammed upwards again and again, managing to hit his prostate every time.

"God, Cas, _fuck,_" Dean moaned, incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

Castiel was unable to stop himself from reaching down and fisting his own neglected cock at the sight.

"So beautiful, Dean," he whispered. Dean, now seeing stars as he neared his orgasm, barely heard him.

"Cas, I need you inside me. Now," he demanded harshly. Castiel looked wildly about the room.

"Dean, we don't have anything to….to smooth the way for me."

"Use your spit, fuck, I don't care. I'm about to come, and I need your cock in me to do that, _so get inside me right now_." Dean was a squirming hot mess against the blankets, gripping the base of his own dick so that he didn't come then and there after looking over his shoulder to see Castiel, debauched through and through, looking at Dean as if there was nothing else on Earth.

Castiel licked several firm striped up his palm, and ran it over his cock. He shuddered, leaking precome, and used that to slick himself up as well. Dean's entrance still had saliva from before dribbling from it, and Castiel took the time to take his fingers out of Dean and replace them with his tongue once more. Dean was practically sobbing as he twisted beneath the celestial being, and Castiel couldn't bear it anymore. He lined himself up, and pulled Dean into an upright position so that they were both on their knees, Dean's legs spread and his back pressed firmly against Castiel's heaving chest as he slowly pushed himself inside, inch by inch. Dean threw his head backwards so that it was resting on Castiel's shoulder, and in the moments before Castiel began to move, he tilted the King's chin towards him so that their lips met in a hot, messy kiss.

Then Castiel pulled out slowl, and slammed back in.

Dean would have collapsed from pleasure had it not been for the strong arm bracing itself against his chest and holding him in place. Castiel rested on his haunches, thrusting up into the tight heat that awaited him. Dean's hands left his cock, and instead moved upwards so that they eventually were reaching around the grip the back of Castiel's neck, holding his mouth in place so that every exhale whooshed across Dean's neck in a steady stream of warm, moist air. His dick bounced freely in time with Castiel's thrusts, the stiff flesh hitting the line of hair that formed a steady trail down Dean's lower stomach and releasing a constant leakage of precome that dripped onto the blankets.

"Cas, Cas, Cas, _yes,_" Dean chanted his name as if it were a prayer, and Castiel pressed an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just where Dean's jawline finished.

"Dean, I want to see you. Please, let me look into your eyes when you come," Castiel begged, almost as lost to the sheer pleasure as Dean was. Dean was quick to comply, letting out a noise of complaint as he eased himself off Castiel and rolled onto his back, spreading his bowed legs in welcome. Castiel licked his lips, and fervently pressed his body to Dean's as he kissed him on the mouth.

"I love you," he said, as passionately as he could, and Dean's mossy green eyes met his own.

"I love you, too," he responded, and tears sprung to his eyes at the surge of affection and love that flooded his chest like a hurricane. Castiel wriggled so that he was able to catch hold of Dean's ankles, and hook them onto his own shoulders before realigning himself with Dean's waiting hole. He pushed in once more, Dean relaxing around him, and began to set a punishing pace, hitting Dean's sweet spot on almost every thrust. Dean's back arced from the relentless pounding, and his legs locked around the back of Castiel's neck. Fingers dug into the soft woollen blankets beneath them, and his dick danced up and down from the movements of their bodies. He could feel the heat pooling in his groin, and let out a whimper.

"Cas, 'm close. So close, Cas."

"Look at me, Dean," Castiel whispered. Dean's head lifted, and their eyes met.

"Come for me."

That murmured command was all it took for Dean to let out his neediest howl yet, and thick ropes of come spurted across his stomach and Castiel's chin as his body moved back and forth with Castiel. His orgasm dragged out as he watched himself let go, the eroticism heightened by the sight of his own cock freely ejaculating with Castiel's eyes boring into him. Castiel was completely undone by this, and he gave an animalistic scream as he came inside of Dean, who had tears of pleasure streaming down his face. There was a clash of thunder and a flicker of lightning, wind rushing into the room and reminding Dean forcefully that Castiel - who was positioned above him, glowing from the force of his orgasm like some kind of avenging angel - was still an otherworldly creature. This did nothing to stop his own orgasm, and his legs gripped Castiel even more tightly as he finished with one final burst, sagging back onto the bed. Castiel collapsed on top of him, still sheathed inside of Dean, who set about lowering his legs so that they could rest around Castiel's waist comfortably. The Star reluctantly, carefully, pulled his softening member out of the King, but was unable to do anything more for the time being. They lay there, Castiel on top of Dean, their breathing returning to normal with their arms tucked around each other. Dean was somewhat startled to feel the drying tear tracks on his face, and gripped his lover even more tightly. Finally, he deemed himself lucid enough to speak.

"Did…..you use your power to drag the finish out?"

Castiel smirked against the skin of Dean's chest.

"I may have."

"Awesome." Dean summoned the energy to lift his head and see the white splatters across the pair of them, squirming at the sensation of Castiel's semen inside of him. "Fucking hell." Dreamlike, he dipped a finger in one of the puddles and lifted it to his lips, tasting himself. "Hmm."

Castiel watched, unable to tear his gaze away. "Dean, if I were not so worn out, I would take you again just from the sight of that."

Dean grinned. "Sorry. Hand me a blanket, I'll wipe us off and we'll go to sleep."

Castiel grabbed the blanket, but he cleaned them himself, somehow finding the will to lift Dean's hips up and dab at his entrance to rid them both of most of the mess. Dean subjected himself to the ministrations willingly, but once they were both clean and he reached for Castiel to pull him down once more, Castiel shook his head.

"I cannot sleep here, Dean. You know that."

"Please, Cas," Dean pleaded, clutching at Castiel's hand. "We'll put on clothes and everything. Just sleep here, next to me. That's all I ask."

Castiel bit his lower lip – the same one Dean had so lovingly worried earlier with his own teeth. He knew, however, that as soon as Dean had asked he would willingly give whatever the King asked for, be it a good idea or not.

"Okay."

He picked up their clothes from where they were strewn across the floor, and they both lazily pulled them on before flopping back down onto the bed. They reached for one another at the same time, and ended curling into one another, cradling the other man within their arms underneath the covers.

"I love you, Cas. No matter what."

"I love you too, Dean. I always have."

* * *

**AN: PLEASE tell me what you think!**

**MariMagda - It's been so long since I read them I'm kinda ashamed :/ but yeah Jess is meant to be Elaine, the Lady of Shalott. Ahh I FORGOT TO SAY HAPPY EASTER TO EVERYONE. I HOPE YOU HAD A GREAT ONE. I went away for a week and I came back and my family had eaten all my chocolate. Typical.**

**Until next week!**


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